


About the Valentine Sweater

by Calla_Lilalma



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Crossdressing, Drinking, Fluff, Getting Together, Humor, M/M, Matsukawa ain't having fucks to give about what he wears, Rare Pairings, Valentine's Day, romantic!matsukawa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 19:20:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18079388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calla_Lilalma/pseuds/Calla_Lilalma
Summary: The day after and ripple effect of a particularly disastrous Valentine's Day.





	About the Valentine Sweater

**Author's Note:**

> Hei! I just had a whim and wrote it. It's been a while since i wrote a Haikyuu fic and i might be rusty. Might also be OOC and I'm sorry about that.  
> Comments and Kudos are welcome!  
> Hope you enjoy! :)

Issei wakes up with a splitting headache, a cramped back and no mood for living today.

Or getting up at all. That’s also out of the question. The vertigo of getting up and using his body to move with the hunger, thirst, filth and misery would be only adding to the hell he’s experiencing right now.

He tries to blink and clear his vision, the sun working as the hotness of aforementioned hell, the living room of the apartment he shares with Hiro comes into view. At least one good thing comes from this; he’s in a safe place and not in a dumpster in some alley, swimming in his own vomit and piss.

It relaxes him enough to attempt getting up. Not without a lot of groaning and cursing his fates.

Mid-effort, Hiro comes out of his room, yawning and a little groggy but otherwise completely fresh and well rested.

“Top of the morning to you dearest.”

Issei grunts, putting the last bits of brainpower into getting up.

Hiro chuckles and helps him stand slowly by grabbing his arm.

“Marry me please.” Are the first words Issei says today, hoarse and dry. His tongue and throat feel like they’re being scraped with sandpaper.

“Haven’t even fetched the meds yet. Get ready to bow down bitch.” Hiro lets him go once he successfully drags him to the kitchen and sits him down in one of the chairs.

The moment a cool glass of water and the two small white pills touches the table, Issei pounces and downs them greedily with newfound power and speed for someone that feels so crippled.

“So?”

“Hmm?”

“I guess yesterday went well?” He nods down to him and wiggles his eyebrows expertly.

Issei follows his eyes and his eyes widen and how his outfit has ended up.

The faux suede shirt has twisted sideways, taking the zip fastening with it, half unzipped to reveal his hip and the side of his risqué lacy underwear. He’s still wearing his thigh high socks with the cute little bows up front, even though one has gone down his calf and the other half off his foot, just hanging limply.

As for the top-that changes the story entirely.

“That’s totally not mine.” He says dumbly.

“No shit Sherlock.” Hiro echoes in a deadpan voice but a smirk is etched on his face.

It really isn’t. He’d known of such a hideous olive-green colored jumper. Such a dead looking colour doesn’t even suit Issei, even when it fits him alright in size like most of his other similar pieces he has.

Even if he wasn’t aware this was in his closet, Hiro would have known for sure, having roamed his closet meticulously and wearing is clothes for years now. And it’s not his either- the knowledge goes vice versa.

He definitely looks debauched- his light makeup is probably a mess that has stained the sofa’s cushions, he’s wearing a shirt that is not his own and his hair is an absolute mess. He’s hungover, sore all over and to an outsider he looks like yesterday was a good day and got supremely laid-just according to plan.

Funny, he snorts. Yesterday feels like decades ago; he certainly feels like an old man just by thinking about it. Valentine’s was supposed to make you feel youthful and joyous and all that jazz.

_Why is Issei only like a hideous goblin?_

Oh… maybe because it had been a shitty fucking day. Again. What year does that make it now?

He doesn’t bother answering, he doesn’t need more depressive feelings weighting him down this already awful morning.

“It’s not what it looks like.” He murmurs with a pitiful try of a smile and then sighs, pleading with his mind to calm down and stop the headache.

Hiro mimic him in compassion, but Issei can’t help but meanly think that it’s pity. After all, Hiro spent his Valentine’s day, a day he doesn’t even celebrate or feels something for, having fun at some distant family’s party, while Issei was once again got the short straw out of the gang. And only thinking about the romantic excursion Oikawa and Iwaizumi have gone to brings up some kind of moronic and unpleasant bitterness.

Speaking of bitter, Hiro as if he reads his thoughts – he does in a way- gets up.

“Confess to Daddy precious Child, while He makes the divine ambrosia.”

Issei laughs weakly, takes a deep, resigned breath and starts recounting his epic tale.

**

_The thing is, Issei is a romantic boyfriend._

_Once he’s in a relationship, he tends to some cheesiness and romanticism. He may give Iwaizumi and Oikawa shit for being too sappy and gross, but he can own up when his own hypocrisy on this is brought up._

_He always makes sure to bring flowers on the second date and pick a romantic, candlelit dinner at the third, provided his partner is into those things too. It’s just as much a part of him as his laid back and fun side and he tries to show them all when he’s on a date. When he’s interested, he becomes open and honest. He’s not messing around the ‘getting to know you’ phase so that when he’s in a relationship there isn’t any misunderstandings._

_One thing that shows a lot is that he’s very much into Valentine’s Day._

_For capitalist and for-profit and manipulative as it so obviously is, there is the opportunity to make the day special. Stores have rare products and offers; some amusement parks can be simply magnificent at the Valentine’s night and the lingerie shops can have some very…interesting stuff aside from their eye-boggling sales._

_Whatever kind of person one may be, there is always something to do. Issei makes research every year to prepare something special and takes care and time off for that day so that he can create an experience._

_And every year without question he spends Valentine’s day alone._

_From not knowing how romance works and what it even is in elementary school and dating not being a thing, to time schedule’s being too tight to study for the entrance exams from one or both sides- everything just happens and his luck leaves him alone to spend each year alone. Even when he was in a relationship that day, something always came up at work, a project, family…just something._

_And Issei could never blame anyone for this but the circumstances for fucking him over like this every year._

_This year everything seemed ideal; he was going strong with his boyfriend of eight months and now on his third year of university he’s learned how to navigate courses and he could do the courses on Valentine’s Day that fell on a Thursday and could skip and ask notes for the two courses on the following day._

_A couple of days before that, while doing wandering at the mall and maybe last-minute shopping, he found what he calls the ‘Valentine Sweater’. It was a simple read sweater with a few knitted hearts at a few specific places. Compelled, he went and tried it on and it was proven perfect for the occasion; it was soft to the touch, complimenting his body at just the right places. It was perfect for the day they were planning._

_Which was a simple date on a carnival that was here for the day and then at Issei’s place for some fucking. Even Hiro going away for those couple of days was a fortunate coincidence._

_What wasn’t a fortunate coincidence was that the very same hour he purchased that sweater and finalized the details, he sees his boyfriend exiting a lingerie store with someone else under his arm- all cozy and shit. Undoubtedly couple-y._

_And to make things even worse, the shop they came out of is the same that he visited- the bag of it now feeling like stone dragging him to the core of the earth._

_Issei confronts them both, hiding his anger and hurt with ease. He doesn’t make a scene or an argument. He just asks the obvious questions and breaks up with the asshole on the spot._

_He spends the way to his apartment silently cursing him and the rest of the day doing so aloud. He’s alone and even though Hiro or Oikawa or Iwaizumi would be good to talk to in theory, he doubts whether the reality would make him feel better._

_The dreaded day arrives and once again he’s by his lonesome. The so-called Valentine Sweater is washed and dried and sitting there taunting him with ‘would be’s that have him slightly turned on. At classes he’s absent minded and wondering why is he even there. Possibly denial of what the hell happened over the course of the last 24 hours._

_The skies become dark quickly and the lights of the city start to shine brightly. The sounds and music of the carnival echo in his silent apartment vividly, joining the ‘Valentine Sweater’ at inanimate things making fun of him._

_He was about to just close his curtains and be a petty, miserable Scrooge in Valentine’s edition when he sees and hears fireworks._

**_Oh, fuck no._ **

_In just one moment, impulsivity takes over fast. He’s been spending each year alone and now would not be an exception but why not fucking try and enjoy it. There are fireworks and he’s not missing seeing those._

_He dresses up just like he planned. He wears the Valentine Sweater and tucks it in his high waisted skirt that stops in the middle of his thighs but not under the lace and leather high waist underwear._

_It’s a little tight and tedious to put on the thigh high socks and his low top red converse but once that’s done, he’s gotten used to it and checks himself out in the mirror._

_Crossdressing was never a shameful issue to him as he’s stopped caring for outsider opinions and tunes them out. Those that matter have his back._

_And honestly, it’d be a waste since in clothes like this Issei knows he looks hot. His legs can rock the thigh highs and the waist and shoulders for anything else. The ‘Valentine Sweater’ looks even better combined with the rest and now it’s just be a waste to not show it off at least once._

_He knows the weather will be mild and good for winter so his legs won’t freeze and he won’t need anything but a light coat._

_The moment he closes the door there is no going back. Maybe once he’ll enjoy the day by himself and flip off the fate that’s been doing it to him for so long._

_He’ll even try to get laid. Give some other single soul some companionship._

**

The smell of coffee makes his pause to moan and Issei holds himself back with a thread to not pour the hot lava right down his throat.

“We’re going to have a talk with your ex by the way.” Hiro says at first. “But that doesn’t explain the-” he motions to him.

“My wounded heart couldn’t take much so I left early.” He tries to downplay it, but it’s useless. Hiro just doesn’t say anything so that he can keep the last bit of his dignity. But he knows how Issei can get invested at times and how break-ups can sting at lot. And in an occasion like this, the ache is stronger.

“Then I went to a bar. And got distracted by the booze.”

Now that he thinks of it, he could easily have gone to a bar if he really wanted to get laid. He could definitely pick up or be picked up. But the absence of pain in his ass or even his panties looking like just as perfectly tied as he did it yesterday show otherwise. He’d definitely have known. Damn him for being too sentimental to have one-night stands while sober.

Perhaps he didn’t go all the way, he rethinks. He’s wearing a stranger’s shirt after all. Maybe he made out with someone or used hands and mouth. Issei is doubtful of the latter, he’d taste something weird-he’s far from a virgin.

In retrospect, he’s not interested in searching for the stranger and possible fling and definitely not interested for the ‘Valentine Sweater’. It’d be good-ish while it last but he won’t miss it. Let bygones be bygones. It wasn’t even that expensive to have some worth.

For now, he wants to take of the tight and uncomfortable panties that dig into his asscheeks and waist and have a shower. Then, he has to deal with the post break-up period, including being babied by his friends while also holding them from going and breaking his ex’s face or threatening him, his actual family calling and doing the same and lastly his own mood.

**

It escapes his mind after a few days, or maybe he doesn’t like to remember and life gets back to normal like it was a fever dream of Issei’s. Classes and his gang take his time to think about that night. He’s hard pressed if he really wants to remember. He’s pretty sure that it’s not one of his fun drunken stunts he’s done at college parties when they get to laugh about it.

A couple of weeks later he’s on Oikawa’s college’s stadium, next to Iwaizumi and Hiro and watching their captain give quite the performance. It still feels a little strange to watch from the sidelines instead of being there, participating but after three years the feeling has worn off and became nostalgia. Today it must be lingering because on the other side of the court, it’s Ushijima Wakatoshi that is getting ready to deliver another powerful serve of his. Issei’s forearms wince from the faint memory of meeting that power.

By the final minutes of the much, he’s on the edge of his seat. Oikawa’s persistence is just like before, pushing forward- and by Iwaizumi’s worried mutters, a little more than he must. Ushijima is being the same infuriating unstoppable force with the mind and attitude of an immovable object.

Yet, Issei still checks out his tight, marvelous biceps, his broad chest and imposing presences, all glistening with sweat.

He groans to himself and sinks fully into his sink. This break up has left such an awful taste in his mouth that he starts getting thirsty over Ushijima at a much when he’s supposed to be blindly cheering on Oikawa.

Thank goodness the match ends with an unfortunate win on Ushijima’s team. They all know the drill- going in there to comfort their captain and maybe hope he’s in a mature mood and doesn’t start a bickering contest.

He’s not; they find him ready in the vending machines outside the locker rooms frowning and standing tall, with one foot ready to shoved to Ushijima’s ass and tongue already saying cutting words.

“Okay Okay Oikawa-san…” Hiro says to jokingly as Iwaizumi is marching quickly to drag his boyfriend out of the building to take a breather.

Issei joins in by starting to sing ‘imagine’ by the Beatles in purposefully wrong key with a smirk on his face.

Oikawa glares at them all. “I hate you all.”

“My heart is bleeding.” Hiro and him say at the same time, high fiving at the unison. “And here we thought to be supportive friends and by you the milk bread of comfort.” Issei says with a shrug, not bothering to hide his smirk.

“But if you are so not being a good friend right now.” Hiro continues. From over Oikawa’s shoulder, Iwaizumi is in the torn between scolding them of spoiling Oikawa and approval.

“You’re not taking it back!” Oikawa eyes both of their devious faces and with a huff goes to alert his team that he’s leaving with them, dragging Iwaizumi with him. Hiro goes to the ATM to take some more money for the comfort feast that will certainly do a damage on their broke college students’ pockets.

“Matsukawa Issei.”

Just as he’s about to join him, he hears the familiar deep, baritone voice that startles him. Catching his breath, he turns to Ushijima, whose presence completely forgot.

Hiro stops and looks at him. Him and Issei communicate what’s needed with their eyes and in the end Issei gives a nonchalant shrug as a signal to go ahead and meet up at the entrance.

“Sup’ Ushiwaka?” he asks, confused. In the year’s he’s known-or being acquainted would be a better wording- they’ve never talked outside of the court or the volleyball scene in general. Hell, he was sure that Ushijima hadn’t even remembered him, especially since he stopped playing volleyball and the other’s whole fucking being is revolved around that.

Ushijima is meeting his eyes head on now, unwavering and he can’t help but have some explicit thoughts. It’s the broken heart that’s talking and his libido that just latching on to whatever hot person that is not a close friend he’s in close proximity with.

“I have something of yours.” He goes straight into the subject. Before Issei can ask any questions, he dugs into his duffle bag and gives him a commercial paper bag.

He takes it with hesitation and still confused. However, they soon leave his body along with his whole fucking soul. His skin pales and flushes hot at the same time and prays to the heavens for a hole to open up and drag him to the pits of hell, away from all this embarrassment.

The ‘Valentine Sweater’ just stands there, laughing at him. If it could speak, it’d definitely say ‘I lived bitch’.

“Oh my fucking god.” He mutters in shame, cold sweat pools on his forehead. The implications have become clear and in an odd way, he’s glad it’s someone he vaguely knows and is at least somewhat confident that is a decent guy that carried his ass back to his apartment.

“I never expected you to own something like this.” Ushijima says unhelpfully, blunt as ever, obviously staring at his current outfit of a plain green shirt and jeans.

“Well, I wasn’t born with a volleyball uniform…” He mutters with a scowl. He pushes down the aggression and sighs, running a hand through his hair, messing further with unruly curls.

“Look.” He starts, “From the bits that I remember, I was being a pain in the ass. So… let me make it up to you.” He can’t believe things have come to this, “Let me buy you coffee. Also I have your jumper at home, I think it’s yours at least…”

“It is mine.” Ushijima responds.

“-It’s washed and all. So I’ll return that too. And answers about that night.” He mumbles. The situation feels so surreal like an episode of a sitcom.

“Alright.” Ushijima agrees and continues staring at him with unblinking eyes, it makes Issei all fidgety and his stomach tighten. He really needs to keep it down.

Some voice (God in Issei’s opinion) yells for Ushijima and he stops him just when he turns.

“Put your number in.” He unlocks his phone and gives it.

“I’ll hit you up later.” Issei doesn’t run away from the situation like a coward. No way. He just runs very fact out of obligation to find his precious friends and comfort Oikawa. He really looks forward to the post-match complaining and grumbling they do.

Only Hiro is here and it doesn’t take a genius to guess that the other two are engaged in other activities. He pretends that the encounter minutes before was a figment of their imagination.

Hiro lets him and doesn’t ask details- he has pieced the puzzle.

“I get dibs on telling Oikawa.”

Issei laughs, “Cover for me now and you have a deal my good sir.” They shake on it.

**

Ushijima and his universities aren’t too far away and they are many options in the area overlapping their radius. They settle in one of the coffee shops they both know, one of the few that Ushijima knows with his meager social life.

Issei is nervous, he won’t deny that. From the texting, the moment he has to leave his safe apartment, to the commute there and the very moment that he arrives at the front door, the bag with the despicable dead olive jumper is like a holding a bomb.

With a deep breath, he summons his characteristic ‘fuck it’ attitude and goes in. Whatever happens from there on, it will at the very least be worth is for Oikawa’s betrayed reaction and the laugh he’ll get.

Ushijima is here of course, broad shoulders straight and sharp gaze giving him the same intimidating aura. It focuses on him and more accurately on his flowing maxi pleated skirt. The weather ad been all over the place those first days of spring and it shows from that and the turtleneck he wears just in case of a deceitful spring day.

Maybe he looks a little pampered up for a casual meet up but he drowns the thought in denial.

“Hey.” he asks casually slumping into his seat and pretending he’s not kind of being checked out by a hot guy.

“Good afternoon Matsukawa.” The low vibration of his name shouldn’t really be sending certain signal in his but it does and he can do nothing about it.

“Here.” He nearly throws the bag on the other side of the table, eager to get rid of it. Now that he knows whose jumper is it, he’d been conscious of it even from its place in the deep abyss of his closet, right next to the cursed ‘Valentine Sweater’ and how if Ushiwaka wore it I’d really pop up his eyes which now that he examines closely are a really intense and charming shade of dark green-

Heaven interferes to save his ass some more sending an angel in the form of a waiter to take their orders, saving him from his thoughts and getting inappropriately horny in a public place.

 “So…” he trails off, “I already have the feeling I did some stupid shit on Valentine’s but tell me-what’s the real damage?”

“No one and nothing was hurt.” _Except my pride but that’s only collateral damage,_ he thinks to himself. “I was at the bar on a goukon for the day. My teammates had said that I needed to relax.”

“Don’t tell me I barged in and ruin your time.”

“Hardly a good time.” Ushijima’s lips curl up into the smallest, amused smirk. “I was the one who approached to greet you. I’m very sorry for indirectly using you as an excuse to leave the gathering.”

Issei waves a hand to dismiss his worries and then motions him to continue.

“You were clearly intoxicated.” Ushijima says bluntly, “And you weren’t about to stop drinking from the looks of it-”

Each word paints a vivid memory that is slowly emerging on his mind along with the subsequent headache. One that Issei is heartbroken and overly dramatic and puking on the ‘Valentine Sweater’ and immediately taking it off and throwing it off the ground, cursing his ex, his own conditioning to love this shitty day and even his own timing. Then, the idea of breaking up after that day seemed more reasonable and less painful.

Ushijima’s voice is a steady even in his foggy forming memory, a personification of the sober logic he’d lost and pure honesty packed in a hot guy that could make him feel a little less alone.

His face catches fire when he hears about how the other told him that the stupid sweater complimented him perfectly, his athletic body and slightly tanned complexion- Ushijima goes into excruciating detail to be completely transparent, much to his detriment- and how Issei just pounced on him desperately.

He fills the words with the feelings he remembers having then, mostly how fucking horny he was being and the alcohol had lowered his expectations and just acted on his most urgent needs.

And in the face of that, Ushijima acted like a decent human being, like a fucking knight even, and not only dressed him with his own ugly and rotten colored jumper, he ditched his friends and the goukon he was in (which he insists that it was fine and not important at all) to carry him like a princess to a taxi and then deliver him to his apartment and leaving after fucking tucking him in.

By the time the tale finishes, Issei feels like he’s been dropped in the middle of a desert and then immediately doused in boiling water, he’s scorching in his turtleneck, face buried in his hands with only the table’s surface cooling his forehead just a bit.

He takes a deep, long suffering breath he whips his head up. “So I was being a complete dick and came on to you.” He sums it up delicately, “I promise you’re never going to see me again, not that we meet often but at the ver-“

“That won’t be necessary.” Ushijima cuts him off, a little too hurried.

“Em… say what now?”

“You weren’t in control of your actions so there is no one need to put blame.”

Issei stares at him silently for too long that even Ushijima, stoppable force starts to fidget.

Then he laughs; hard, incredulous and boisterous that surprises them both and some of the customers near them from the suddenness.

“You absolute madman!” Honest to a fault and that fucking righteousness to not let things slide if he has a say. He’s heard all the rumblings but living the experience is a wholly different thing.

Nevertheless, they are done now. Issei can’t possibly stand to ask the guy out after today, no matter how Hiro urges him to.

“Well, see ya I guess.” They possibly won’t but whatever. He exits the shop to throw this whole clusterfuck behind him and make a pledge to never drink while in a massive emotional turmoil when Ushijima stops him.

“I’d like to see you again. On a date.” he states, light pink highlighting his sharp cheekbones.

Issei’s mind makes a 180 in nanoseconds. Once the embarrassment is gone, Hiro and him are going to laugh their asses of at that. “Okay.” If Ushijima insists, Issei isn’t going to play hard to get out of masochism. Those he can reserve for other situations.

That earns him a full-blown smile, pearly teeth and dimples and all and his knees almost buckle.

The firm kiss on the lips, not intruding at all and just to solidify the whole romantic deal, definitely makes him swoon.

He slaps shoulder once the kiss is broken and whistles, “You smooth motherfucker.”

Ushijima smirks- maybe he’s not as clueless as it seems.

Issei is really looking for the ride.

**

Word travels fast and Issei would prefer to sleep before the floodgates open. _Oh well._

 _“MATTSUN~”_ a singing voice full of poison comes of the other side of their door with rapid knocks.

Neither of them move and just continue to slurp on their ramen with no care in the world until the knocking becomes a threat to get them evicted.

“Got the camera ready?”

“Always.”

Issei makes himself comfortable on the couchs and text a casual text to Ushijima. He’s going to be here for hours on end so why not multitask in the process?

Like a lady that begins that car races in a movies, Hiro opens the door promptly and settles immediately in the other, smaller couch with fresh snacks already packed by his side.

“You traitor!” Oikawa marches in, forehead veins popped up and showing and an ugly snarl on his face. Iwaizumi is calmer, semi amused and semi disappointed at his life choices.

“You’re banging Ushiwaka of all people?!”

“Not yet. Soon? I’m be sure to tell ya all the deets.” He smirks. His phone beeps in a new notification, “Speak of the devil. I’ll give him your regards.”

It takes him a while to answer the text with his effort of avoiding Oikawa choking the life out of him.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr username is callalilalma in case anyone's interested.  
> Thank you for reading! :)


End file.
